


say that once more, sir?

by whalers



Series: for what binds us [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: (not any of the gang), Gen, death mention, hard of hearing character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:57:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalers/pseuds/whalers
Summary: Maybe he’s dealt with this before or he’s simply too tired to care because the man just nods minutely and asks, “what’s your name?”“Montgomery, sir.” He tries to say it as clearly as possible. “And what did you say yours was?”“It’s Daud.”Montgomery promptly stops listening right around that point as Daud directs him to some kid with hair that looks like honey, because he’s completely dumbfounded. That man could not have just said his name is Dad, could he?; two more boys join the herd, but one has more of a problem than the others.





	say that once more, sir?

Hearing has never been his strong suit. His older sister once told him that their father had fired a gun near him when he was a baby to protect their family from looters and, consequently, damaged his hearing. Montgomery supposes he can’t hold too much of a grudge towards his father for that. He’s been taught how to make signs with his hands to communicate in a silent language and he can always pretend someone isn’t yelling his name to do some work or to face punishment.

But obviously, it comes with its fair share of problems. He usually seems to mishear directions or greetings. He’s gotten on people’s bad side simply because they assumed he was being rude to them, even after explaining over and over that he just can’t hear right, he needs them to stop talking too fast or too slow, _be patient_ (they never are). He’s mispronounced more names than he can count, and sometimes he wonders if he’s even saying his own name right. And he’s pretty sure that if someone called out to him to warn him about someone or even save his life, he either wouldn’t hear them at all or would react too slow and end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Which is why he’s still confused how he managed to follow most of what this man in the long red coat and ugly scar said to him. Being offered supernatural powers only granted by the Outsider and given the chance to train under a skilled assassin is something he’d never thought he’d ever be offered, even in his wildest dreams. His older sister, wherever she is now, lost at sea in a foolish quest to reach Pandyssia, had always longed to be more in touch with the Outsider, as if carving runes and carefully piecing together bonecharms wasn’t enough. Maybe she didn’t do the right things, and that’s why this man with the harsh lines around his eyes and the perpetual frown has the Mark and she never did.

He wants to ask so many questions; there’s so much he doesn’t understand. All of these kids, peering from the window and the rafters and the doorway, do all of them have these powers too? How long does he have to wait until he can go from place to place in a second, dispersing into ash, sounding no louder than a gentle breeze? This place even _smells_ like the Outsider (whale oil and sea salt and something otherworldly that he can _taste_ in certain spots). Does the Outsider visit this place often, or just this man? He feels like he may explode with all the nerves and excitement and questions bubbling around inside him.

“... and not long from now, you’ll be granted the Mark. Are you listening?”

The last question is worded sharply and he stands up a little straighter. He hopes he hasn’t missed anything too important. He’s leaned in about as close as he dares and any more might warrant some kind of punishment.

“Y-yes! Yes, sir. I’ll do my-- I appreciate-- uh, thank you! Thank you.” He sighs, hugging himself around the middle and cursing himself for tripping over his words so badly.

Maybe he’s dealt with this before or he’s simply too tired to care because the man just nods minutely and asks, “what’s your name?”

“Montgomery, sir.” He tries to say it as clearly as possible. “And what did you say yours was?”

“It’s Daud.”

Montgomery promptly stops listening right around that point as Daud directs him to some kid with hair that looks like honey, because he’s completely dumbfounded. That man could not have just said his name is _Dad_ , could he? Maybe Dan? That has to be it. No one names their kid Dad. That would be some sick joke.

But he isn’t so sure it’s Dan that he heard either. And he can’t just go up to his new master later today and address him as Dan. Or Dad. Especially Dad, because his real dad is dead in the ground from pneumonia and he’s never coming back and this man looks nothing like him.

“Um, hello?” The kid, who Montgomery realizes is more of a teenager than an actual kid, shakes his arm. “Did you hear anythin’ I said?”

“No,” he admits, not even shameful, more bewildered than anything. Somehow they’d entered some kind of makeshift bedroom, bunks and mattresses lined up against the walls, and they’re sitting on what Montgomery assumes is this kid’s bunk. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Aeolos. Now pay attention because I’m only gonna say this one more ti--”

“Ay-ah-lis?” Aeolos shakes his head in exasperation but Montgomery doesn’t give him the chance to continue whatever he was saying or correct him, “Is his name really _Dad_?” His eyes are serious and intent; he needs to know if that’s really the true name. It can’t be. But what if it is? Maybe he really likes kids and that’s the real reason he took them in and shares his powers with them.

Aeolos stares at him for a few more seconds, eyebrows raised. “Say that again?”

“Is his name really Dad?”

“ _Dad_?”

Montgomery nods. He feels self conscious suddenly; maybe Aeolos isn’t the best person to ask this. But so far, he hasn’t gotten smacked. Aeolos just looks surprised.

“No, no. His name’s  _Daud_.”

Montgomery furrows his brows, staring at Aeolos long enough that he looks to the side uncomfortably.

“ _What_? Don’t stare at me like that.”

“But isn’t that what I said?”

“Huh -- no, you said Dad. His name’s Daud. It’s sounds pretty similar but you can’t call him Dad.” Aeolos repeats the name three more times on Montgomery’s prompting. He says it like Dawd, which is altogether too similar to Dad and Montgomery knows he’s going to mess up sometime and it’ll all be over. Who even gives their kid a name that sounds so similar to Dad? Maybe he’ll just stick with calling him sir or master.

“Okay, anyway, this here’s the dorms--” Aeolos is interrupted (again! he thinks Aeolos might throw a fit sometime today) by hearty laughter coming from the mattress in the far corner. An older teenager has flopped down onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes and, in his other hand, he holds a fat stick of colored chalk that dusts his fingers a vibrant color. He laughs so hard that Montgomery thinks he should go over there before the guy laughs himself to death, but the laughter dies down soon enough and the boy sits up, wiping stray tears off his cheeks.

“Oh my gods. It’s not _Dawd_ it’s _Dowd_. D-a-u-d. Have you really been calling him Dawd this entire time?”

Aeolos draws himself in defensively, averting the other’s gaze. He looks very much like he wants to sink into the mattress and thin blankets forever. “He never corrected me. Maybe you’re the one who’s wrong.”

“Maybe you just say everything wrong.”

“I’ve been here longer than you!”

“Only two months more!” He doesn’t seem malicious; there’s a playful glint in his eyes and what Montgomery thinks is an amused pitch to his voice, but even so, Aeolos isn’t happy to be teased. His wrong pronunciation seems like a sore spot. Montgomery understands. He places his hand over Aeolos’s and gives him an encouraging smile before he looks back to where the guy has returned to coloring in a very nice mural of a manor surrounded by a meadow full of flowers and trees and small glowing things that Montgomery vaguely remembers from fairytales that his sister read to him long ago. Fairies, spirits, or souls. If people even truly have souls. He’s so enraptured by it that he almost forgets all about the name dilemma until Aeolos gives him a hard pinch to his side. He yelps, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Aedan doesn’t know anythin’. It’s Dawd.”

Montgomery nods, rubbing his side absently. “Dawd.”

Aeolos nods back, appearing pleased with himself. He pointedly ignores something Aedan says, though it’s too muffled for Montgomery to make out, and starts his whole speech over from the beginning. These are the dorms. There’s another bedroom across the hall. Daud’s bedroom is all the way on the other side of the building and supposedly off limits but everyone goes in anyway, especially during the thunderstorms. Montgomery can’t imagine finding comfort in someone who looks so severe, but Aeolos surely knows what he’s talking about so he nods along and tries not to ask him to repeat himself too many times.

 

* * *

 

They aren’t a very big group, but they’re bigger than Montgomery’s old family and share something he never did with the street kids and the pretty painted-up ladies from the Golden Cat. Their family consists of Daud, Javier (which he’s said wrong too many times in the first week that he received two black eyes, a bloody nose, and a threat to snip off his ponytail before Malon locked Javier in the closet), Malon (who speaks the same Gristolian accent that he was raised with and is more patient than anyone he’s ever met), Aedan, Aeolos, himself, and a new kid named Feodor (another name he can’t hope to pronounce correctly and shortens to Feo, like how he’s been referring to Javier as Javi and Aeolos as Aylos). They’re an odd family with supernatural powers being trained to become proper assassins for hire but they’re a family and Montgomery prefers them over anything else life has shoved down his throat since he was forced on the street.

They all have their own quirks that make them different from anyone he’s ever met before.

Javier has skin that is a little lighter brown than his own, and dark brown hair that he always keeps meticulously styled into dreadlocks and tied back into a ponytail. Montgomery has only seen Javier’s hair naturally on the few occasions they’ve bathed together, which is apparently a rare occurrence because, according to Malon, he prefers to bathe with Aedan (and bathing together isn’t entirely out of the ordinary for Montgomery, having lived in small, crowded, one bedroom/one bathroom flat with his parents and sister and the occasional flock of cousins that visited them once a year from Serkonos), but his hair is longer than Montgomery expected, reaching the middle of his back instead of his shoulders like he’s been thinking it does. According to Aeolos, Javier also mutters to himself fairly often (too low for him to hear) and poor Feodor didn’t know it’s an unspoken rule never to call Javier out on it and received a sprained wrist for his efforts (which Daud is still upset with him over). Anger seems to be something he carries with him always, but Malon insists he cares about the rest of them, he just has a hard time at showing it like an average human being.

Montgomery has begun to think of him as a dragon of some sort and Aedan has indulged him by adding in small drawings of dragons in everything he gives Javier. It’s great.

Malon’s hair miraculously changes colors three times before Montgomery asks if he has a bonecharm that makes him as silent as a shadow in exchange for an ever-changing hair color. The answer is a lot less exciting: he just dyes his hair frequently with terrible smelling dyes and counteracts the smell with floral soaps that he robs from Draper’s Ward. He’s never heard of anyone doing anything like that before and it amazes him, as so much always does, and suggests to Javier that he could dye the tips of his dreads green or red or blue or even white and is even more astonished when Javier doesn’t knock his lights out and actually obliges.

Malon also has these droopy grey eyes that make him look sleepy or content every day of his life, and even when he’s angry, his anger never reaches the levels Montgomery is used to. He likes Malon a lot and has started to view him as an older sibling. He doesn’t get annoyed when Montgomery doesn’t hear him correctly, or at all, and is very happy to learn the silent language of hands. He’s also noticed, just like how Javier and Aedan seem to fancy each other, Aeolos seems to fancy Malon. He prays to the Outsider that it turns out well, then wonders if the leviathan cares about silly human love affairs. Probably not.

Aedan is the best artist Montgomery has ever seen. Much better than Sokolov, who only does boring portraits of aristocrats, and, supposedly, one elusive painting of Daud that he’s been trying to get back for years (he can’t imagine why anyone would want to paint Daud of all people, but he keeps his mouth shut and just nods seriously when Daud explains to him that if he ever sees this painting, he has to bring it back to their base). Aedan is strict, especially with training and following instructions (which proves to be a problem), but he’s graceful and flexible and Montgomery learns that Aedan practices ballet when he has nothing else to do. He can also fold himself into tight spaces to reach the others when they hide.

In some aspects, Aedan reminds him of his older sister, though he’s paler in complexion than his sister ever was. He supposes Aedan and Malon have that in common, though Malon is a drop darker in color than Aedan.

Aeolos doesn’t struggle with hearing, not according to the others, but he does have a peculiar habit of mispronouncing things and tripping over his words. He’s walked in on Daud or Malon trying to smooth out his speech many times over the weeks and sometime after, Aeolos always asks if he’d like to join their sessions. He always declines at first. Speech isn’t his main problem, he tries to explain, it’s his hearing. But even so, Aeolos invites him anyway, so Montgomery spends a few hours a week working on his speech. He isn’t sure if it’s working but it’s nice to have something to do when he’s not training, slamming into walls when he tries to transverse, and going on supply runs.

Aeolos can’t see the color red. Montgomery learns this one day when Aeolos is describing what he saw on a mission, describing the cobblestones of the alleyway covered in black, the person he was sent to spy on dead and bloody, his neck slit open. Daud takes this without any question and the day goes on as if Aeolos hasn’t just described a horror show made even more terrifying by the image of sticky black blood dripping from the man’s throat (he’s so distraught he rushes to Daud and, gripping the edges of his coat and near tears, asks if people can really have black blood and if the person was some kind of horrible demon from the void, to which Daud explains that Aeolos just can’t see all the colors right and there’s no such thing as black blood).

Feodor is the newest and the youngest. He likes to tell them stories of the ship was born on and used to work on, sailing all around the isles and seeing whales bigger than anyone can imagine. He sings sailor songs to himself often and loud enough that Montgomery has taken to writing down the lyrics with Malon’s and Aeolos’s help. He has tattoos on his arms and his back that contrast nicely with his dark skin and plans to tattoo Javier and Malon as well. He offers to tattoo Daud one day, after he’s chattered away about life on the ship and how great it is that Daud can relate, even just the tiniest bit because he, too, was born on a ship, but Daud turns him down, says he already has a tattoo. Feodor isn’t content with that and makes it his mission to convince Daud otherwise.

Feodor is perhaps more superstitious than all of them put together and he has an explanation for every little ritual he performs. The explanation is usually that it was what his dad taught him, what he picked up from the other sailors, what a witch he met over in Tyvia told him to do. Daud doesn’t care. Montgomery realizes that Daud doesn’t care about most of what they do in their spare time as long as they aren’t causing too much trouble and they understand that can’t always have “family nights” together.

And then there’s him. Montgomery isn’t sure how to describe himself, or what his goals in life truly are. But he’s here, he has a new family, and he can say, overall, he’s happy.

 

* * *

 

[ small bonus part ]

 

But before he learns about his new family, one of them finally asks the question he’s been waiting for.

It’s been about a week since he joined. Training has left his muscles sore and his hands aching from gripping his blade too tight, and he’s laying on the floor of the space they’ve dubbed the common room when Javier throws the little bird he’s been carving out of wood across the floor.

Montgomery looks at him in surprise. The bird didn’t look so bad. He doesn’t think there was reason to throw it like that. “What’s wrong?”

“Aedan’s called you four times already! Are you fucking _deaf_?”

He stares at Javier, eyes wide, mouth forming a small ‘o’.

“Not deaf, I just--”

“I don’t know how in all the void Daud puts up with you. How are we even supposed to go on missions with you if you can’t hear a fucking thing? Does he even know you can’t hear shit or do you do that good of a job bluffing your way through everything?”

Now that’s just mean. He rolls onto his stomach so he can look at Javier clearly and not upside-down like he has been. “He talks loud enough so I can hear. And I’m not deaf, I just can’t hear so good.”

“You ain’t speak so good either.”

“At least I don’t sound like I just got off the boat from Serkonos.”

Javier stands up so suddenly the chair he was sitting on falls back onto the floor with a loud clatter. “What the _fuck_ did you say?!”

Montgomery is up and running before he even registers his body moving, but Javier has already been granted the shared powers of the arcane bond and is on him before he’s even left the room. He doesn’t exactly remember everything that happened after the third punch but he eventually ends up in his bunk with Malon pressing an ice pack against his throbbing head.

Later that evening, Daud gathers everyone in the dorms and explains that Montgomery is hard of hearing and him not responding isn’t him being rude and it’s not an excuse to get into a fist fight, but also that poking fun at any accents (putting emphasis on Serkonan accents) is not allowed.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't actually know what this is but i hope yall enjoyed it! 
> 
> 1\. i figure the whalers are made up of kids with all sorts of problems, mental and physical. so here's Monty.  
> 2\. for anyone who didn't read the first story in this collection, Aeolos has red-green colorblindness (specifically protanopia), meaning red appears black, along with some other color issues.  
> 3\. in this, Daud is 25, Aedan is 19, Javier and Malon are 17, Aeolos is 15, Montgomery is 14, and Feodor is 13.
> 
> please leave a kudos if you liked it. ;v;/


End file.
